A/N: Hello, folks. This story is inspiration for me to continue writing and hopefully finishing my bigger project I'm currently working on by the end of January. I have finals this upcoming week starting tomorrow, then it's my birthday, Christmas, New Years, and after that I leave for my first vacation going on my own, so the posting schedule will be chaotic for a while. Bear with me as I try to keep organized myself. Hope you enjoy the first chapter of this story, and please leave reviews! I love reviews of all kinds. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year if I don't post again before then! :)


Chapter 1:

Antics:

It was another average day at Stalag 13. Guards patrolling the perimeter, the prisoners giving Klink and Schultz grief, pulling practical jokes on one another, nothing was especially out of the ordinary. In barracks two, Kinch, Carter, and Kalina were all gathered around the main area table as LeBeau hovered over the stove cooking lunch. Kinch shuffled cards he was using for his game of solitaire, Kalina sat quietly knitting a blue scarf for Langenscheidt, and Carter was messing around with a model rocket kit he had gotten in his recent Red Cross package. All was calm and collected, when the door to the barracks slammed opened, and Newkirk came bolting in. He quickly closed the door behind him and began to crawl underneath Carter's bunk bed.

The trio at the table and LeBeau all turned to the English corporal raising their eyebrows at him. Speaking for all of them, the technical sergeant cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

"Hey, Newkirk? What are you doing climbing under our bunks?"

Newkirk put his fingers to his lips and hushed him.

"If the Gov'nor asks, I fled camp and went to China," he answered, sliding himself further under the furniture.

"Did you break his drumsticks he got signed from Gene Krupa's band again?" Kinch asked, knowing his friend had yet again made another dumb move.

"Worse...and that was one time, mate," Newkirk said, defending himself.

"What did you do then?" Kalina asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

Before he could answer, the five of them heard the doorknob begin to click, and Newkirk disappeared beneath the bunks without a second thought. The door soon again opened, and Colonel Robert Hogan himself stepped inside. His eyebrows were narrowed, a tight thin line for his mouth, and his eyes clearly expressed that he was irritated. He turned to his team members at the table, sensing by their expressions they already knew what he was going to ask them.

"Under the bunk, Colonel," The radioman said, exchanging glances with his commander.

"No, he's not, Colonel Hogan. He left camp and said he was going to China," the Englishman's voice said from beneath the bed, poorly imitating Kalina's voice.

"I do not sound like General Burkhalter!" The teenager replied, turning her head back.

The colonel had his arms crossed and rolled his eyes in response. He knew the 'hiding under the bunk' trick all too well. He had seen many of his comrades do it back in the States when they had upset their drill sergeant. He had never fallen for the 'deserted' excuse since.

"Newkirk, I know you're under there," he said, his tone terse. He watched as his English corporal emerged from underneath the bunk and glared at the leading sergeant.

"Thanks a bunch, Kinch." Newkirk grumbled.

Hogan fixed his posture, put a fist on his hip, and cleared his throat to grab the man's attention.

"Newkirk, what is this?" He asked, holding up a rat by the tail. The first reaction he received was Kalina shooting to her feet making a blood curdling screech.

"Ratte! Ratte! Ratte!" She cried.

"Relax, Kalina," Hogan said, his tone remaining the same. He was not putting up with anymore antics. Not after getting chewed out by Klink and not able to weasel his way out of punishment, which he found more than unjust for a stupid prank. "It's fake."

"Where did you find that?" LeBeau asked.

"I didn't find it. Klink found it in his bathroom earlier this morning...and I have a feeling I know who put it there." The colonel replied, turning his eyes back to Newkirk.

"I thought it'd be funny," the corporal said.

"For you, maybe. You realize your stupid prank got me suspended of all my recreational privileges for one month? I can't even go outside the barracks for the next 72 hours."

"Get a chance to sleep in," Carter answered.

Hogan slowly turned his eyes to the young man, who almost immediately diverted his eyes back to the model rocket in his hands. Once certain the sergeant would not speak again, he made his eyes back to Newkirk.

"I want you to go to Klink's office this minute and tell him you were behind all of this, got it?"

"Yes, Sir," Newkirk said sadly. He hung his head and sulked towards the door before Hogan stopped him.

"Put it down, Newkirk." He warned, knowing the rubber rat was back in his possession. He heard the man give a heavy sigh, gently threw the toy back onto the table, then left without another word. When he was gone, the colonel let out a breath of air and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the tension of his job going from his neck and back up into his head causing him a major migraine. He picked up the rat from the table and placed it into LeBeau's hands. "Burn that in the stove, LeBeau, will you?"

"Oui, Colonel," the Frenchman answered, with a nod.

"Good...now if you excuse me, I need to go lie down for a while. All of Newkirk's recent practical jokes are giving me a ginormous headache."

Hogan walked to his room, opened the door, and was about to step inside when he paused and looked back at Kinch.

"Hey, Kinch," he said.

"What is it, Colonel?" The staff sergeant remarked.

"Go see if you can't find a massage therapist in one of the barracks? Someone's gotta be around here."

"Sure thing, Sir. I'll do that the minute I finish this game of mine."

Hogan sighed and rubbed the side of his pounding head with his fingers.

"I sometimes wonder why I chose to become a military officer...why didn't I just go to medical school like my mother wanted me to?"